One Big Happy
by AJ Rayne
Summary: A series of vignettes about the Otori siblings. In no particular order.
1. One Big Happy

**One Big Happy**

* * *

In the back of his mind, Kyoya made a mental note to hire a more intimidating assistant who was more guard dog than office decoration as his others tended to be. Perhaps one who used to be a former athlete, a sumo wrestler or a body builder. Someone physically large so that if words alone could not deter an uninvited visitor, he or she could simply stand in front of the Vice-President's office doors and physically refuse entry. If he'd had the foresight to have hired someone like that rather than the delicate, efficient, and pleasant Ms. Nakata—the kind of young, pretty secretary people would expect him to have—he wouldn't be sitting with his older sister and brother at some smoky little _commoner_ restaurant that he didn't doubt Tamaki was responsible for finding.

Resting his chin in his hand, Kyoya listened to Fuyumi give an enthusiastic play by play of her youngest son's antics. It had taken ten years, but marriage had finally settled with her. Her husband was something of a human smear, but Kyoya had made sure he didn't do anything to disgrace his wife. Fuyumi now had children to distract her, and from the healthy flush of her cheeks and the shining brightness of her eyes, Kyoya knew that she was thoroughly enjoying herself. He wasn't overly fond of his niece or nephew, who were three and one respectively, but then again, they were barely old enough to have a decent conversation with, and they had a tendency to run in fear whenever they saw him. He didn't mind that in the least, but it horrified Fuyumi because she didn't seem to understand why her children didn't warm to her kind and wonderfully intelligent baby brother. It amused him that she still saw him as a toddling little boy rather than the fearsome Vice President of Otori Medical.

Then again, Fuyumi still tended to see them all as the brothers who had pushed her into the pool or who fought over toy cars, and no matter what they did in life, the image persisted. Her stubbornness did have its advantages because if not for her, Kyoya was sure he would hardly ever see his older brothers. She was the glue that held them together, and he knew that each of them, in his own way, was grateful to her for that.

Of course, whenever she interrupted them while they were in the middle of a meeting or a business deal, they were a little less grateful than normal.

Next to her, Akito listened with a slight smile dancing around his lips. Kyoya had always found his second brother to be a mystery. He was not smarter than his older brother, and not as cunning as his younger brother; what he was, was moderation. Akito liked his life and had no reason to make it any better or any worse. He fit into his role and he relished it. Where Masahiro was a perfect copy of their father, and he himself was sharp enough to cut his own way in the world, Akito took what the world threw at him with an easy grace that was very rare in their family. Fuyumi, for all her mothering and fluttering, was anything but easy. When she needed quiet advice, she went to Akito. The role the second son filled was of the middleman, the kind messenger who never overstepped his bounds, who could put out fires with little more than a word or two and nary an cutting glance. Akito played his part, accepted his role without question, and, it seemed to Kyoya, was thoroughly enjoying it.

An Otori man enjoying himself was a rare sight; Kyoya heard once that Akito was considered an oddity by their employees because of how often he smiled. He was more like Fuyumi in temperament, though when push came to shove, he could be just as ruthless as the rest of them...only with a smile.

Next to Kyoya, Masahiro sat, his long fingers rubbing against the condensation that had built up on the side of his beer glass. He kept his eyes on Fuyumi, but Kyoya knew that though he was listening, he was also thinking of what had occured in the office today and what had to be done tomorrow. Masahiro was driven and intelligent, but he hadn't quite perfected his poker face the way his youngest brother had...or maybe Kyoya had just gotten good at reading his face. Their relationship had cooled somewhat when their father had announced that Kyoya would be inheriting the company in his place, but during these nights out, Masahiro continued to treat Kyoya the way he always had. It was only at work that Kyoya could feel his brother's ire.

He was worried about what Masahiro might do to secure his position again. Despite achieving his goal, Kyoya couldn't relax, because until he was secure in the President's office, he had to make sure Masahiro didn't wrestle it from him. Kyoya knew better than to underestimate him; Masahiro may have been born the first son, but if he hadn't been, he probably would done what Kyoya had. He hadn't made any moves yet, but Kyoya knew that they were now locked in a game with no rules—and it was going to be more fun than he'd had in a long time. He was sure Masahiro shared his sentiments in that respect for they were more alike than either of them would be willing to admit.

Because of that, Kyoya was also sure that he would have Masahiro's support when it came time to leave this sorry excuse for a dining establishment. It was unspeakable that the three powerful sons of Yoshio Otori were squeezed into a booth smaller than the backseats of their cars, but only their sister could get them in this situation. The decor was reminiscent of a child's version of a log cabin, and though the beer certainly came in generous proportions, the owners hadn't given much thought to the quality of the food they offered—that was probably why they wanted their customers to be as drunk as possible.

Eyeing what looked to be mini-cheeseburgers on sticks, Kyoya watched Fuyumi with barely concealed disgust as she popped one into her mouth without a second thought. She caught him staring at her, and at least flushed a little, proving to him that she hadn't completely forgotten who she was.

"Try it," she said, pushing the plate towards him with a finger. "They're really very good."

Akito, who had stared at the little cheeseburger with some suspicion before eating one, smirked.

"It's really not as bad as it looks," he added. "Go ahead, Kyoya. Just drink more beer to sterilize your stomach. You're being a little too squeamish for a man of your stature. Fuyumi's drank more than you have."

"I have!"

Kyoya narrowed his eyes at his siblings. Masahiro gingerly picked up a loaded stick, looking at Kyoya out of the corner of his eye. Seeing the challenge and accepting it, Kyoya did the same. Together, they finished off a stick each, and reluctantly, Kyoya found that he didn't mind the taste.

"It doesn't taste like chicken, does it?" Akito said, his smirk widening to a grin. "That's the beauty of this place. Everything's chicken, but doesn't _quite _taste like chicken. Makes you wonder what they put in their food to make that happen."

"Goes to show that commoners will do anything to improve their quality of life, even if it means degrading the chicken," Kyoya said archly, after taking a healthy swig of beer. "And you say this is made out of soy, Fuyumi?"

"Apparently, it's healthier than the regular draft beer and since commoners drink themselves to a stupor practically everyday, they're now worried about their weight and have found ways to counter the detrimental effects of their drinking," Masahiro said, answering for her.

"Drinking less would do that as well," Kyoya pointed out.

"When you convince them to drink less, make sure to try your methods on smoking, sweets, and all the other vices people have. They'll be healthier, but we'll be out of business. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you, Little Brother?"

Kyoya's temper spiked. He hated hearing that patronizing tone in Masahiro's voice, a tactic his brother had used since childhood and always managed to rub Kyoya the wrong way.

"Of course not."

Across the table, Akito and Fuyumi exchanged a look.

"Don't worry. We won't be starting a—what is that word—barroom brawl," Masahiro said coolly, pushing up his glasses. "Take my advice, Fuyumi, and stop with two children. You have a girl and a boy, a complete set. Leave it at that."

"Now, Masa, you can't say you didn't enjoy growing up with the three of us nipping at your heels," Akito said mildly. "Besides, when Kyoya takes over the world, you'll always be there to bring him back down to earth by reminding him that once, he peed on you."

Aghast, Kyoya stared at Akito who merely smiled angelically. Fuyumi laughed into her beer and Masahiro smiled.

"I did no such thing," Kyoya sputtered, finding himself experiencing one of those emotions he rarely ever felt—surprise.

"Oh, you did," Akito went on ruthlessly. "Big brother here was trying to be neighborly, welcoming the new baby into the family and all, and you two were getting along great, but then you had to go and pee on his new elementary school uniform."

"That's...that's..."

"True," Masahiro supplied, as he turned to face Kyoya. "I remember it very clearly because since I had to change, I arrived late to school. The teacher had me stay after class to clean the brushes. Then, after that indignity, father lectured me about never disgracing the family again, and made me wash my own uniform. Lucky for you, you were a helpless infant and couldn't be treated the same way."

"Masa never went near you again after that," Akito said, laughing. "At least, not until you could walk. I used to wave you in his face to keep him away from me. You were my first weapon."

Kyoya could only gape at them. Akito was very nearly helpless with laughter and Masahiro was grinning at the memory. Only Fuyumi looked as shocked as Kyoya, but only because she was sympathetic to her baby brother's plight, and that annoyed Kyoya as much as his brothers' amusement.

"That's...that's..."

"Horrific," Fuyumi said, shaking her head at them. "Leave him alone."

"He can stand up for himself, Fuyumi," Akito chided. "The man singlehandedly wiped out our competition in Italy so I think he could hold his own against his own brothers. Right, Kyoya?"

"Drink your beer, Akito. I apologize for that...incident, Masahiro."

"You're forgiven. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

"I swear on my life that it won't."

"See? Dignified to the very end," Akito said, drinking his beer as ordered.

"So cool and collected. You always know the right things to say!" Fuyumi said, clapping her hands.

"You're his biggest fangirl," Akito teased.

"I am," Fuyumi said, tilting her chin up.

"You were my first weapon, but you were her first toy," Akito explained. "Hence, all the unfounded favoritism."

"You'd be a wonderful prime minister, Kyoya," Fuyumi said, smacking Akito's arm.

"Politicians don't make nearly enough money," Masahiro remarked.

"My sentiments exactly," Kyoya said, with a nod. "Father makes ten times that of the prime minister and is just as, if not more, powerful."

"If we need political favor, there's always the private police, and the many connections our family has made throughout the years," Masahiro put in. "Don't forget, we also have a cousin in the Diet."

"Or perhaps we can put Akito up for elected office. He is the more personable one out of the three of us," Kyoya suggested.

"What about Fuyumi?" Akito suggested. "She's pretty personable. I'd have to have a camera-ready family, and frankly, that's not going to be happening any time soon."

At that, all three brothers looked at their sister. Fuyumi's eyes widened and she waved her hands at them.

"Absolutely not," she protested. "I'm a housewife. It's what I was trained for, and if I wasn't home, who would take care of my precious children? This is ridiculous. You three need hobbies instead of coming up with ridiculous plans..."

"We were kidding," Akito chuckled, but when he realized he was the only one laughing, he glanced at his brothers. "Or maybe only _I _was kidding."

"An Otori in the Blue House. The first woman prime minister at that," Kyoya muttered.

"The prestige that such an achievement would bring us," Masahiro pondered. "The public may be ready for a female leader, especially one from such a respected family."

"You're both insane," Fuyumi squeaked. "Drink more!"

Kyoya smiled without humor and Masahiro sat back in his seat.

"Think about it, Fuyumi," Kyoya said.

"One day Ouran's PTA will have a new president, and you'll find yourself with more time in your hands than you know what to do with," Masahiro said.

"I liked it better when you two were fighting," Fuyumi groused, staring into her beer.

"Terrifying, aren't they?" Akito said with a proud smile.

Masahiro and Kyoya exchanged a look. Masahiro arched an eyebrow at his brother and Kyoya pushed his glasses up, clearing his throat.

"When were we fighting?" Kyoya asked him.

"They seem to have mistaken our rivalry for...fighting. How quaint," Masahiro sighed.

"What were we thinking, Fuyumi?" Akito said, shaking his head as he lit a cigarette. "They're refined and civilized men. They wouldn't never resort to _fighting_."

"I remember them getting into a fight once," Fuyumi said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "You were in it too, Akito. I remember because when you three hit the floor, your bodyguards came running from all over the house."

Akito snapped his fingers.

"That's right. I picked a fight with Masa because he started dating a girl I'd been interested in. He pushed me through Kyoya's door, we woke him up, and he jumped into the fray just because he was cranky. You always were lovely in the morning, baby brother."

Kyoya's expression darkened.

"You broke my glasses. I remember that. Father made me walk around without glasses for a week for punishment. That was the first time I'd gotten a migraine."

"A twelve year old with a migraine!" Fuyumi exclaimed, her hands on her cheeks. "That's awful."

"It made you stronger," Akito assured him.

"After all that, I kept the girl," Masahiro said with a satisfied smirk. "Married her even."

"I'll steal Mari away the second your back is turned."

"As if she would let you," Masahiro snorted. "And you'd never settle down with one woman, in any case."

"I would," Akito protested, but after a beat, added, "As soon as Kyoya does."

"I'm fine on my own. Your concern is touching but unfounded."

"That's right. You're still pining over Suo," Akito teased.

"That would be a very auspicious union," Masahiro agreed seriously, his expression like granite.

"You're both demented," Kyoya said, glaring at them. "When I find out who started this rumor about me and Tamaki, I'm going to throw him or her out of Japan myself. Maybe even off the planet."

"And now he's homophobic. Kyoya, I thought you were more open-minded that that."

"You're an idiot, Akito."

"When was the last time you went on a date, Kyoya?" Fuyumi asked curiously.

Kyoya rolled his eyes.

"Why do we always have to come back to that? Why don't you bother Akito about when he's going to settle down?" he said, hating how petulant he sounded, but it seemed to occur every time he was in the presence of his older siblings.

"He goes on dates," Fuyumi answered. "Lots of dates."

"Is it really called a date when you pay for it?" Kyoya asked innocently.

"As if I would need to do that," Akito said, affronted.

"From what I understand..."

"Don't make me get up. I will put out this cigarette in your hair and with all the gel in there, you can be sure something will ignite."

"Stop it," Masahiro said, waving a hand at them. "You two are causing a scene."

"How anyone can hear us over this din is beyond me," Kyoya observed. "Just so you know, Fuyumi, we're never coming back here. I'm going to have to discard this suit because I don't think the smell can ever be washed out."

"Have the Hitachiins send you a new one," Akito suggested. "I've seen their latest line. The lavender pinstripe suit they've designed would suit you."

"Sounds more like something you would wear," Masahiro remarked.

"Only on my dates. I suppose that's why you wouldn't need it, Kyoya."

"He's going to die next to his money and his ashes will be resting next to father," Masahiro said.

"Is this equal opportunity verbal abuse?" Kyoya asked him with a frown.

"As the eldest sibling, it is my responsibility to keep a level playing field and not play favorites," Masahiro said pompously.

"How noble," Akito said dryly.

"Very inspirational," Kyoya agreed.

Fuyumi sniffling drew their attention to her. Kyoya noticed that her beer had been replaced with a second and she had very nearly finished that.

"Beer tears," Akito said unsympathetically, though he patted her back. "Easy, Fuyumi."

"I can't tell you how happy I am when we get together like this," she sobbed, taking the handkerchief Masahiro held out. "I miss you three sometimes, and the way you were always around, even when I didn't want you there. Growing up...growing up isn't as fun."

"Here we go," Masahiro mumbled under his breath. "Next time, I'm choosing the restaurant."

"We'll end up going to some pretentious, exclusive restaurant with waiters standing at our elbows," Akito protested. "That's not exactly the kind of place where we can tell 'Kyoya peed' stories."

"There is never an appropriate place for those kinds of stories," Kyoya interrupted.

"See!" Fuyumi exclaimed. "You three might snap at each other at work or...or...fight over who's going to be the king next..."

"President," Masahiro and Kyoya said in unison.

"But in the end, we're all Otoris and we stick together."

"We're not the Musketeers, Fuyumi," Masahiro said.

"I didn't say we were. I said we were _Otoris_."

Kyoya sighed, not at all surprised that Masahiro joined in his sentiments. For his part, Akito looked ready to explode into a fit of laughter, but he gallantly held it in for the sake of their sister.

"I think that's enough for tonight," Masahiro said, waving at one of the servers to bring the check. "Akito, it's your turn to pay."

"I'm sure I have some change in my pocket that'll cover it," Akito said.

They stood and Kyoya and Masahiro helped Fuyumi out the door while Akito paid. The warm spring air circled around them as they stood on the curb, waiting for their various chauffeurs to arrive.

"Another culinary adventure for Otori night," Masahiro observed.

"Never again," Kyoya assured him. "Do you hear me, Fuyumi? Never again please."

"Okay. I think Akito liked it though."

"Akito's easy to please," Kyoya said.

Akito came out to join them, his hands in his pockets.

"Another good night and no one's too drunk."

"Let's go to karaoke!" Fuyumi suggested.

"No," her three brothers said in unison.

"We have a merger to plan tomorrow," Masahiro said, his expression shuttering as he met Kyoya's eyes. "Isn't that right, Kyoya?"

"That's right," he said. "I'll see you in my office at eight then?"

"How about my office? It's bigger."

"How about the conference room?" Akito suggested dryly. "I'll have my assistant set out breakfast for us there."

"Fine," Masahiro and Kyoya agreed.

Four black cars of various makes pulled up. With a slight nod, Masahiro got into his car, and Akito waved before getting into his. Kyoya helped Fuyumi into her car, letting her give him an exuberant hug before he extracted himself from her iron grip, and shut the car door. He watched the three cars blend into the passing traffic before getting into his own car.

Another fine night indeed. After a night with his siblings, Kyoya always had a vague sense of losing a little dignity, a little face. They always knew how to keep his ego in check—for one night, anyway. Idly, Kyoya wondered if they would treat him differently once he owned their livelihoods.

Smiling, he shook his head. He wouldn't put money on it.

-fin-


	2. The Gauntlet

**The Gauntlet  
**

* * *

  
Kyoya arranged his cravat to sit perfectly centered on his chest, and tucked carefully into his vest. He straightened his morning coat, brushing at his shoulders at imaginary dust the way he'd seen his brothers do in the past. He touched his cuff links to make sure they were secured before he turned to leave his room. He had one hand on the door when it opened and he found himself looking into the slightly anxious eyes of his brother.

"Kyoya," Akito said tersely. "Come with me."

"What's wrong?" Kyoya demanded, frowning.

Akito didn't answer. Kyoya knew that despite Akito's more carefree nature, he wasn't given to panic, so that meant that something was very wrong. And for him to call for Kyoya, meant that something was wrong with their sister.

"I had to stop her from climbing out the window," was all Akito said.

Fuyumi's wails could be heard long before they were in sight of her bedroom door. To Kyoya's surprise, Masahiro was sitting by the door, a newspaper in his hands. He made a show of reading, seemingly unaware of their sister's shrieks, but when he looked up at their approach, Kyoya noted the strain in his expression. He wasn't so much keeping people out of the room, but keeping Fuyumi in.

"There you are," he said, mildly. "You have to talk to her."

"What's wrong with her?" Kyoya asked, but he didn't really have to ask.

"Just listen," Akito said dryly.

"She's not forming coherent sentences anymore," Masahiro said, and he reached for the doorknob. Kyoya saw his brothers exchange a look and when the door opened, a bundle of white and tulle immediately came bursting out. Akito grabbed Fuyumi before she could get away, and half-carried, half-dragged her back into the room. Shocked, Kyoya only stared but Masahiro took hold of his arm and pulled him in.

"I can't marry him!" Fuyumi shrieked, grabbing Akito's lapels. "I can't marry that...that..._pig_!"

Akito tried to free himself but they all knew from past experience that Fuyumi had the grip of a boa constrictor when she put her mind to it. Kyoya stepped forward and put a hand on her arm.

"What did he do?" he asked calmly.

"He says he wants me to...to..."

"Careful what you say," Akito warned. "There are some things your brothers shouldn't know."

The other two glared at him, but Akito only shrugged.

"It can't be so bad that you would cancel the wedding," Kyoya said pragmatically.

"He wants me to learn how to cook!"

They stared at her.

"Why?" Akito asked, brow furrowed.

"Aren't you going to have a chef? I thought you hired a chef the other day," Masahiro remarked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Is he one of those people who enjoys commoner habits?" Kyoya asked with a sigh.

"No," Fuyumi answered. "That would have made things a little easier for me because then we'd have something in common. He just wants me to learn my place, because he says I need to learn humility coming from a family like ours."

Akito started to reach for his phone, probably to have his bodyguards find and gag the clueless groom, but Masahiro put a hand on his shoulder. Kyoya glanced at him, saw the calculating expression on his face, and hoped Masahiro would make the situation better rather than worse. At this point, it could go either way, especially considering their eldest brother's less than gentle way of dealing with family issues.

"She's going to be a part of their family after today, Akito," he said. "And it won't do to have any bad blood between us and them before they even start their married life."

"I'm not going to marry him!" Fuyumi exclaimed, gesturing at Masahiro violently enough to upset her veil.

"You will," Masahiro said coolly. "You gave your word and Otoris do not break their word."

Kyoya put his hands on Fuyumi's shoulders to make her look at him when she looked ready to throttle Masahiro. She met his eyes, beautiful despite the tears, and visibly calmed at the sight of him. It was no secret that Fuyumi preferred him to Masahiro and Akito, a fact that alternately pleased and annoyed Kyoya. He thought his sister foolish and selfish at times, but he understood her and her motivations better than the others did—which meant he handled her better than they did when she got like this. Personally, Kyoya would have preferred she married someone with a little more class and pedigree, but she saw something in Keiji Shido that was beyond him, and what Fuyumi wanted, Fuyumi got. In that, she was an Otori.

"You love Keiji, don't you?" he asked, appealing to her more tender emotions.

"Yes," she answered in a small voice.

"You're not perfect, are you?"

"No."

"Neither is he. You have a role to play, but you have choices within that role. If he has some archaic notion of women's roles, you will have to humor him until you can show him that his ideas are outdated and inefficient," Kyoya reasoned.

Fuyumi blinked at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Kyoya saw his brothers nod in agreement.

"How?" she asked.

"Food poisoning," Akito replied.

"Break priceless heirlooms while you dust," Masahiro added.

"Rearrange his drawers," Kyoya finished.

Fuyumi sat down on an armchair, her voluminous skirt puffing out around her. Masahiro handed her a handkerchief and a mirror. She dabbed at her face, and in the back of his mind, Kyoya wondered how many of Masahiro's handkerchiefs she already had. The two of them weren't especially close, but for some reason, Masahiro was always the first one to hand her a handkerchief when she needed it.

"Am I really not going to be a part of this family anymore after today?" she asked, looking up at him with big watery eyes.

"We can't get rid of you anymore than we can get rid of Akito or Kyoya," he answered, putting a hand on her shoulder. "But your priorities will have to change. That's just the way it is."

A spark of temper flared in Fuyumi's eyes, but Masahiro's hand tightened on her shoulder. Silently, Akito and Kyoya watched their older siblings. It was an old fight between opposites: the eldest son, responsible for polishing the family legacy, and the only daughter, responsible for not tainting the family legacy. However, there was no denying the mutual love and respect between them, despite times when they were both sure they would never speak to each other again.

"You have to grow up sometime," he went on. "But if you need us, we'll be here."

Fuyumi stared up at him, surprised at his uncharacteristic kindness, and she wasn't alone in that. It didn't take long for Masahiro to become aware of his siblings' reaction and he took a step back from his sister, dipping his head down and pushing his glasses up.

"Just don't make it a habit to come looking for us all the time. I have medical school to think about and I can't come running every time Keiji does something idiotic."

"And he will probably do something idiotic at least once a week," Akito put in. "The man has as much sense as a chair."

"Less," Kyoya added.

"Shut up," Masahiro told them sternly.

Fuyumi threw her arms around Masahiro's neck. He stumbled, hesitated, but eventually hugged her back. Kyoya tucked away a smile but Akito didn't bother hiding his satisfaction.

"Can we get on with it then?" Kyoya asked, glancing at his watch. "The limo is waiting to take us to the church, and I'm sure that Mother will be none too pleased if the ceremony starts late. It will throw off the day's schedule."

"Okay," Fuyumi said, sniffing one last time.

Akito fixed her veil and Kyoya rearranged her train. Masahiro arched an eyebrow at them.

"Are you two her bridesmaids now?"

"Just open the door," Akito said, not looking at him.

He offered Fuyumi his arm, which she took with a watery smile. Kyoya picked up her bouquet and walked after them. He glanced at Masahiro, who was watching Fuyumi and Akito walk away with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"Keiji is going to have his hands full," Masahiro remarked.

"He had to know that when he asked her to marry him. Fuyumi never pretended to be someone she wasn't."

"A good observation, Kyoya."

Something in his tone made Kyoya glance sideways at him, but Masahiro's expression was a careful blank. Alarms started to go off in Kyoya's head, but he kept his face just as placid as his brother's.

"I'll have to be careful the next time I arrange things," Masahiro said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?"

A corner of Masahiro's mouth went up, and Kyoya wondered if the feeling of foreboding in his gut was the same as what other people felt when he looked like that.

"You didn't think she met the son of the largest medical equipment company by accident, did you?" he said imperiously. "Honestly, Kyoya, I didn't expect Akito to figure out, but I had a little more faith in you."

Kyoya frowned at him, surprised at that statement, but said nothing.

"You're becoming better at navigating the social scene, and more importantly, at reading people," Masahiro said, sliding his hands in his pockets. "Don't squander that gift on selfish pursuits, not when you have a family who expects your help. Everything about our family has to be watched carefully, especially when it comes to unions. We have too much to lose."

"I have never acted for my own benefit," Kyoya said smoothly. "I know how important the family is, Masahiro, and when it comes time for me to take part in this unrealistic tradition, I'll be sure to improve not just my life but the family's as well."

"How...selfless of you," Masahiro said, his tone implying that he meant the complete opposite.

"I'm the third son, Masa. That's my role in this family."

"Like you said, Kyoya, there are choices within your role. What choices will you make, Little Brother?"

Kyoya saw something in Masahiro's eyes that rattled him. He started to paste a well-practiced, harmless smile on his face, but under Masahiro's unwavering gaze, he wasn't so sure if it would do any good, so he merely stared back. In that instant, he knew that there no point hiding his ambition, because for all he knew, Masahiro had known all along.

Perhaps the first son wasn't simply lucky to have gotten where he was. Perhaps, he could have just as easily earned his place.

The two brothers, more than ten years between them, exchanged a look, recognizing that things were about to change between them.

"What choices will you make, Masa?" Kyoya murmured.

"The better ones," Masahiro answered with a slow, humorless smile.

"We'll see about that."

"What are you two standing around for?" Akito called out. "Let's go before she changes her mind again."

Masahiro and Kyoya turned in unison to face him, and something in their expressions made Akito's eyebrows arch.

"Save it for later," he chided. "Get in the car."

Their steps in perfect synchronization, Masahiro and Kyoya walked to the car. They paused at the open door, and Kyoya glanced at his older brother.

"After you," he said, gesturing. _For now_.

Masahiro smirked.

-fin-


	3. The First Annual Otori Music Competition

**The First Annual Otori Music Competition  
**

* * *

The Otoris were not a musical family. They owned one recording company, had friends who were famous musicians, owned countless CDs and records, and generally enjoyed going to musicals and symphonies, but they were not gifted in the creation of music. They were masters of the business world; intimidating, intelligent, and ruthless. But not a one could sound a clear, true note. 

Masahiro went through the piano, violin, and the clarinet, only to quit on the grounds that the eldest son should maintain some semblance of dignity rather than continue being berated by his music teacher about his complete lack of ability. Kyoya had managed to survive five years of cello lessons before he argued that the unnatural positions his hands had to be in would be detrimental to his health in the future; their father was so impressed with how much an eleven year old knew about the muscles in the human hand that he let him quit. It was only Fuyumi who could put her dignity on hold to go to karaoke with her friends, and happily suffered their teasing about her tin ear

Akito sat at the piano, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. The Otori children, the boys in particular, looked a great deal like their father, but Akito differed from them in that he'd inherited their mother's golden eyes—a shade or two lighter than the chocolate brown of his siblings. Those golden eyes were now narrowed at a complicated array of notes that had baffled him as a child and still baffled him as a young adult. But after the Suo kid had blown them all away with his piano playing, Akito couldn't help but be inspired to try again.

He'd made sure his siblings weren't home, sure that they would have something to say about his picking up the piano again after having quit with enough enthusiasm to garner a sharp word from their father about embarrassing the family with his display. He hadn't been able to help it; as a pianist, he wasn't even on the same universe as Suo.

With visible hesitation, Akito put his hands on the keys and went through an easy scale as a warm up. The notes sounded well enough, strong and confident as he loosened his fingers, trying to remember what he was taught. First slow, then a little bit faster, then faster...but then his fingers began to trip up.

Gritting his teeth, Akito stared down at the keys, concentrating on getting the scale out without any mistakes before he could even thinking of attacking the piece he wanted to play. It had been nearly six years since he'd last touched the piano, and though he remembered where his fingers were supposed to be—he'd memorized the periodic table of elements on a dare once, so it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he had a mind like a steel trap—his fingers couldn't remember what they were supposed to do.

"Are you trying to kill us?" Kyoya's mild taunt sounded from the doorway.

Akito shot a glare at his brother. Still dressed in his Ouran junior high school uniform, Kyoya walked into the room and tossed his jacket and bag onto the couch. Uninvited, he went to stand behind Akito, studying the sheet music propped up on the ledge.

"Well, I didn't actually think you'd need the sheet music to play a C Major scale," he remarked. "Although, if that's your warm-up, I'd advise you to practice perfecting that before moving on to the Mozart piece."

"Thank you for your wisdom. What are you doing home so early?"

"It's exam week, so I only have classes in the morning. I suppose you were counting on the house being empty. I apologize for coming home unexpectedly."

Akito wondered when his fifteen year old brother had learned to sound so...indifferent. On paper, Kyoya's words may have seemed sincere, but coming out of that face that couldn't care less, with a tone that could have turned hell into a ski resort, they barely seemed civil. It was impressive. Akito hadn't quite perfected that look until well into high school, but he doubted he could do it as well as Kyoya. Come to think of it, his brother had been manifesting certain characteristics that made Akito look at him closer. The Kyoya Akito had grown up with had been obedient, pleasant, and polite. This new Kyoya was still all those things—or _seemed _to be all those things, but alarms started going off in Akito's head just at the sight of him.

Again. Impressive.

Kyoya crossed his arms and planted himself where he stood. Akito blew out a breath.

"What will it take to make you go away?" he asked evenly.

Pushing up his glasses to give him some time to think—a move trademarked by Masahiro—Kyoya literally looked down his nose at Akito, garnering some of his ire in the process. He didn't seem the least bit put off when Akito glared at him.

"I'm just curious to know why you've decided to start playing after all this time," Kyoya said. "I thought you hated the piano."

"I do, but after your friend played yesterday, I thought what a shame it was to leave this beautiful instrument alone."

"It might be more of a shame if you continue playing."

"Go away, Kyoya. Go out on one of your jaunts with Suo. I'm sure he's on his way over here now."

"All the more reason for you to keep playing. He'd make a wonderful teacher."

Golden eyes narrowed. Akito was patient but there was only so much he could take from his _younger _brother. Maybe it was time to remind Kyoya of his place.

"Maybe," Akito said pleasantly, though his smile had turned cool. "I did manage to get a little further on my piano lessons than you did with your cello. You didn't make it to the fifth level, did you?"

"My hands were beginning to freeze in that position," Kyoya said, tilting his chin up a fraction. "I thought that maybe it was time to stop since I was too young to be getting rheumatism."

"You don't think mine were? I used to be able to do these scales fast enough for the notes to blur together. It's a shame I stopped practicing."

"Mother used to tear up listening to my cello, even when it was only the scales. She said out of the four of us, I was the only one who managed to show any improvement."

"Mother also said that you looked good in glasses."

Akito had to bite back a laugh at the expression on Kyoya's face, the cool exterior melting away to reveal the teenager underneath. While there was no denying Kyoya's gifts, Akito still knew him in the way only an older brother could, which meant he knew just how to make that icy facade crack. It was gratifying.

"What does that statement have to do with our current conversation?" Kyoya retorted, pushing up his glasses with enough force to make the nose pads rattle.

"It proves that Mother doesn't always speak the truth."

"While that may be true, she was correct about my cello. Unlike yourself and Masahiro, my music teacher never sent notes home citing concern over my lack of improvement or my need for more practice. I may have been an average music student, but in this, I managed to surpass both of you. At a younger age, I might add."

"Masahiro is tone deaf, so he's not a very good measuring stick. Compared to the cello, the piano is a much more difficult instrument to master. I was, at least, blessed with long fingers, but had to work on my dexterity to be able to reach the keys fast enough. It takes more skill to play a set of scales on the piano than it does on the cello because of that very fact. Your teacher may have been pleased with your abilities, but when compared to what is necessary to play the piano, I am afraid I'd have to take issue with your belief that you surpassed me."

They stared at each other.

"What do you propose?" Kyoya asked.

Akito tapped his chin thoughtfully. Kyoya watched him silently, but his eyes were challenging, his very stance combative. Akito had had years of practice handling Masahiro, and so he was used to manipulating fragile egos. He smiled a slow smile when how he was going to manipulate this one some more came to him.

"Dust off your cello, Little Kyoya. In a month's time, on Mother's Day, we're going to have ourselves a little competition. Prepare a piece and we'll let the family decide which of us is the better musician."

To Akito's surprise, Kyoya smirked at him. He'd been expecting an argument to the contrary, but Kyoya had put away his irritation and didn't seem at all worried about this turn of events.

"An interesting challenge," he remarked. "I accept."

The doors to the music room burst open and Tamaki bounded in.

"Kyoya!"

"Tamaki."

"There's a new French movie playing at the commoner movie theater in Ueno. Let's go! Oh, hi, Akito."

"Hello, Suo," Akito greeted dryly.

Akito watched as Tamaki yanked Kyoya by the arm and dragged him to the front door. He could hear his brother protesting the field trip, but his feet moved alongside Tamaki's anyway. It was just as well.

Stretching his fingers, Akito went back to his scales.

--------------------------------

--------------------------------

"Akito, you're going to have stop doing that," Masahiro stated flatly as he stood at the doorway.

Annoyed, Akito turned his head and shot an icy look at his older brother. Masahiro didn't look any happier than he did, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He held an anatomy textbook in a white-knuckled hand, and looked as if he hadn't slept in days, which was probably the case.

"I've got an exam next week that I'm trying to study for but between you trying to make that piano self-destruct and Kyoya trying to saw his way through his cello, I can barely hear myself think," Masahiro went on. "I thought you two had better things to do besides waste your time on pursuits neither of you will be able to see to the end."

"It's also cruel to put Mother through this," Fuyumi added, coming up behind Masahiro. "I'm not saying that to be mean, Akito, but it's her day and I think she deserves a little peace and quiet, not finding herself in the middle of one of your Otori Brothers Epic Battles."

"We don't have epic battles," Akito sniffed, looking away from them and staring at his sheet music. "This will be perfect in time for Mother's Day."

"You both said this year's Mother's Day, right?" Masahiro sighed tiredly.

"Yes. Go to the library if we're bothering you so much, or even the lake house. It's silent as the dead up there. You'll fit right in."

Rubbing his eyes, Masahiro walked away, leaving Fuyumi to lean against the door frame. Akito frowned at her, when she merely stared back at him, a smile on her face.

"What?" he asked.

"I want to listen to you play," she replied.

Blowing out an annoyed breath, Akito turned back to the piano. Doing his best to ignore his sister's presence, he focused his attention on the notes before him, reminding himself that he graduated top of his class in high school and would do the same in university in a year's time. He could sleep through physics class and still get the top grades, go outside unshaven and ratty but still manage to bring a woman home, and sail through life because the second son had the best position in the family—almost the same perks of the eldest child, but without the responsibility. He had all that going for him so one measly piano piece shouldn't be a problem.

A few minutes into his song, he heard Fuyumi sigh.

"Masa was right," she murmured, turning away. "The piano _is _going to self-destruct."

"Fine!" Akito exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "I'll take a break if it'll make you happy. Don't you have some shopping to do or something? Where's Shido?"

"He's studying," she answered, turning her nose up at him. "And I have other things to do besides shop."

"Fine, then besides bothering your dear brothers."

"No, I always have time for that. Let's go see what Kyoya's doing!"

Akito snorted but fell into step beside her. He could hear the cello screeching away as they neared Kyoya room, and with practiced silence, Fuyumi opened the door a crack and peeked in. Over her head, Akito did the same.

Kyoya sat in the middle of the room, holding his cello as if his life depended on it. While he held the bow with the tips of his fingers, even from where he stood, Akito could see the strain in his grip. However, his face was placid, nothing in his expression giving away the difficulty he was having. And he _was _having difficulties if the sound coming out of those strings were any indication. Akito now knew that it really was possible to make an instrument cry.

"Isn't he cute?" Fuyumi whispered, her eyes sparkling with adoration. "He's trying so hard and it's not working at all."

"Give me a break," Akito hissed back. "He's about three bars away from a hernia."

"He is not. How could you say such a thing?"

"Because I grew up surrounded by doctors and there are some things you just know. Look at him. If he swallowed a lump of coal..."

"I can hear you, you know," Kyoya interrupted, his bow coming to a stop. "Do you mind? I'm practicing."

Akito pushed the door open all the way without warning and Fuyumi stumbled in.

"Sorry, Kyoya!" she said bashfully. "We just wanted to see how you were doing."

"You might have, but Akito is here for other reasons. Let me guess: I couldn't beat you even if I practiced nonstop for the next ten years?"

"Something like that except ten times meaner," Akito said, walking up to him and tweaking one of the strings. "You could make a statue cry with that horrific playing, Kyoya. Mother was probably a piece of cake."

"Is it almost time to get the piano tuned again?"

"Maybe we should order another cello just in case this one runs away."

Akito yanked the bow from Kyoya's hand and ran it across all the strings with enough force to make them all wince at the sound.

"That was actually better than what you were doing to the piano," Kyoya observed coolly. "Maybe you should try the cello instead."

"And steal your thunder, or whatever it is you're doing? What kind of brother would that make me?" Akito retorted sarcastically.

"A..."

"_SHUT UP_!"

The three younger Otoris jumped when Masahiro stormed into the room, his hair in disarray and his glasses askew. He was still holding his anatomy book but only by its cover, and the spine looked close to ripping from the strain.

"Let's just settle this once and for all," he said, jabbing a finger at them. "The servants are going insane, the foundation of the house—no—of _the family _is cracking, because of your incessant bickering and unspeakable musical...musical...I don't even know what to call that!"

"Catastrophe?" Fuyumi offered.

"Not good enough," Masahiro snapped. "Kyoya, pick that damn cello up and take it into the music room. We're going to have this over and done with _now_."

"We still have two more weeks to go," Akito said stubbornly, crossing his arms.

"We agreed on the date of our competition and it wouldn't be fair if it was moved up without warning."

"It would be _fair _to say that neither of you are going to get any better. Two more weeks of practice will result in nothing but half of the household staff quitting, and my failing out of medical school, not the two of you suddenly becoming musically adept. You're not asleep and this is not a dream. Pick up the cello, Kyoya."

Kyoya and Akito exchanged a look. Without a word, Kyoya set aside his cello and Akito moved to stand in front of him.

"Two weeks, Masa," he said. "We'll do it in two weeks."

Visibly bristling, Masahiro stood toe to toe with Akito.

"If you don't settle this today, you're going to have another competitor," he warned between clenched teeth.

"Who? You?" Akito said, chuckling.

Masahiro's eyes narrowed.

"No. Fuyumi. Singing."

Akito heard Kyoya's sharp intake of breath. His own shoulders slumped in defeat. Behind Masahiro, Fuyumi's mouth moved but nothing came out, her face bright red with embarrassment and anger.

"All I'm going to give Mother for Mother's Day is a diamond necklace. You three will blow that present right out of the water with your competition," Masahiro said, straightening and pushing his glasses up.

"Fine," Kyoya said, standing. "Let's go, Akito."

For a brief moment, Akito considered not following his little brother out of the room, just because he wasn't especially pleased about taking orders from a kid whose diapers he'd changed...or seen changed...but with a shrug, he went. There were some battles not worth fighting; besides, one battle a day was enough.

"Kyoya!"

Akito felt the blood drain from his face when he saw the blond boy in the hallway, a big box of pastries in his hands. His timing could not have been worse.

"Tamaki," Kyoya greeted.

"Perfect timing, Suo," Masahiro said, clapping a hand on Tamaki's shoulder and turning him around. "You can be the judge. Fuyumi and I aren't objective enough to judge these two."

"Judge what?" Tamaki asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"The First Annual Otori Music Competition," Masahiro answered, his demeanor going from irritated to mildly amused in the blink of an eye. "The first and _only__one _of its kind."

In less than five minutes, Masahiro settled Tamaki on the couch, handed him a pad of paper and a pencil that came out of nowhere, and explained what was expected of him. Tamaki was staring at him like deer caught in headlights, which made Akito feel somewhat less nervous, considering he was going to have to play in front of a veritable virtuoso. Kyoya looked more annoyed than anything else with the prospect of his friend, probably his only friend, having to take part in this.

"Masa, can't you and Fuyumi just decide on your own," he said, a wrinkle between his eyebrows. "Tamaki probably has things he has to do. Right, Tamaki?"

"Actually, I just wanted to see if you wanted to go to this street fair in Asakusa today, but we can go after this," Tamaki said guilelessly.

The air around Kyoya practically crackled. Akito smiled.

"Just be fair, alright, Suo?" Akito said kindly, offering up a warmer alternative to his two brothers. "Don't let Masa and Kyoya intimidate you. You're a wonderful musician and you know what's best, more so than any of us in this room."

"Thank you, Akito," Tamaki said, practically sparkling at him. "I'll do my best to judge you and my best friend as objectively as I can."

"Best friend?" Akito echoed, not liking the sound of that.

"Please take your seat at the piano, Akito," Masahiro said smoothly, his gaze diamond hard.

"I thought Kyoya was going first," Akito argued.

"It might be better to get you out of the way first," was the firm reply. "Please."

Grumbling under his breath, Akito sat at the piano. He ran through a quick scale before starting his piece. He forgot the others were in the room as he poured all his concentration on the task before him, tackling it as he did a chemistry problem or other things of that nature. Music was science and math, that's all it was...

Before he knew it, he was finished. Feeling proud of himself since he didn't make a single mistake, he looked over to where Tamaki sat between Masahiro and Fuyumi. The boy was staring at him as if he were an alien.

He could feel the waves of amusement emanating from Kyoya, but not even a hint of smile was on his blank face.

"Uh...that was...very..." Tamaki was speechless for the first time in Akito's recollection.

"How about your hold your comments until after Kyoya plays?" Akito suggested frostily, his earlier warmth forgotten as temper spiked.

Tamaki cleared his throat and looked down at his paper. Fuyumi looked sympathetic, but Masahiro looked vindicated, his eyes gleaming with smugness. He gestured for Kyoya to take a seat, the MC of this impromptu concert.

Akito leaned his elbow on the top of the piano, cupping his cheek with one hand as Kyoya made a show of tuning his cello. He wanted to say that nothing could stop it from sounding like a shrieking bag of feral, dying cats, but held his tongue.

When Kyoya began, the notes started out strong and confident, as they always did. Akito saw Tamaki's eyebrows rise, impressed, but he tucked away a smile because he knew what was coming up next.

Tamaki's eyebrows rose higher but only because Akito was sure he had never heard a cello make sounds like that. For his part, he had no idea how Kyoya had come up with that technique, but he must have blown out an ear drum in the process for him to not realize that he was creating the musical equivalent of a nightmare. On the couch, Fuyumi winced and Masahiro poked at his ears as if he had an annoying fly buzzing around them. Tamaki was blinking rapidly, his pencil frozen over his paper.

When Kyoya finished, the room was dead silent. Then...

"_BRAVO_! _MAGNIFIQUE_!"

Akito gaped at the idiotic boy, who had jumped to his feet. Masahiro and Fuyumi looked as surprised as he felt. On the other hand, Kyoya beamed.

"I've _never _heard a cello make sounds like_ that_!" Tamaki crowed, clapping. "Kyoya, my friend, I _knew_ you were a genius in math, science, and all those common subjects at school, but I never guessed you'd added the sublime language of music to your repertoire."

"He's biased," Akito said flatly, shocked at what he was hearing.

"I'm not!" Tamaki protested.

"You insisted he do this," Kyoya pointed out, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice.

"I assure you, Akito, that Kyoya's cello playing reached the very depths of my heart and the artist in me recognizes a kindred spirit in him," Tamaki added.

"I've been robbed!" Akito exclaimed. "I demand a recount."

"There's only one vote," Masahiro said amusedly. "Alright, Kyoya wins the competition. Great. Now, set the cello on fire and throw the piano out...or the other way around. I don't care. Just stop the cacophony and let me study in peace. Thank you for helping out, Suo."

"It was my pleasure," Tamaki said cheerfully, grinning.

Masahiro picked up his book, dipping his head, but not before Akito saw him roll his eyes. He left the room without another word. Fuyumi was busy congratulating Kyoya while Akito sat stiffly at the piano, feeling as if he'd gotten run over by a truck.

"Akito," Tamaki said, coming to stand beside him. "Your playing was also very beautiful."

"But not quite at the same level of sublime as Kyoya's," Akito said testily.

"Kyoya's playing wasn't as skilled as yours, but he felt his music," Tamaki explained thoughtfully. "You hit all the right notes but you didn't let them in. Music is about how you feel inside, not just what you can do on the outside. It's a beautiful language, and you must see it that way so you can use it to communicate your emotions with your audience."

_Someone forgot to cue the violins, _Akito thought wryly, but said aloud, "Thank you, Suo. I'll keep that in mind."

"Let's go, Kyoya. To the street fair! Do you two want to come along?"

"Yes!" Fuyumi said, clapping her hands.

"No, thanks. I've got some errands to run," Akito said dismissively.

"Alright. Keep practicing, Akito, and remember what I said."

Akito pasted a smile on his face and nodded. He glanced at his brother and saw that Kyoya's smile mirrored his.

"A fair win, wouldn't you say?" Kyoya asked.

"From a _very _fair judge," Akito said, his voice dripping with honey.

"Until the next time then," Kyoya said.

"You're still behind in the count."

"I'm catching up."

Akito shook his head at him, but knew it was true. Kyoya pushed his glasses up, a corner of his mouth going up as well. Then, Fuyumi and Tamaki each took a hold of his arms, and they trooped off, leaving Akito with the piano.

He'd heard it many times, from many people, all that about feeling the music. It just didn't make any sense to him. Granted, he'd gotten choked up hearing Tamaki play, but he'd stayed up all night working on a Japanese paper and was more vulnerable than usual. Besides which, when he played, he heard the the music, not felt it. How else was he to know he was playing the right notes? He was certain only romantic fools managed to put common sense on hold to _feel the music. _

"Then it's no wonder Suo's a genius," he mutttered, tapping out an errant key.

Standing, Akito covered the piano, and fought the urge to kick the cello over. He made do with savagely twisting one of the tuning knobs. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he pondered the merits of hiring a pianist next time he had an urge to make music. It would probably be more beneficial in the long run. His fingers ached and his pride was smarting. Not to mention, Kyoya managed to win one.

Sighing loud enough to draw the attention of a passing maid, Akito told himself that he should probably get used to it. He'd seen the expression on Kyoya's face when he'd won, the first time he could remember seeing Kyoya actually show pride and confidence in something he did—or maybe allowed himself to show it. Like music, those emotions meant nothing until they could be felt, could be shared. Akito had missed it, but at some point, his brother had started to open up.

Great. Another overachieving, egomaniac in the family.

Akito ran a hand through his hair. Yes, he really had to start getting used to losing to his little brother. Smiling, he comforted himself with the fact that Masahiro was going to take it a lot harder than he was.

-fin-


End file.
